


Yellow Iris

by DarkShadeless



Series: A Wreath of Wild Flowers [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Creepy, Halloween story, Sith magic, my bad - Freeform, still a, though it's august now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 20:26:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15565764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: By the time the Jedi arrive they are almost too late.





	Yellow Iris

_Iris (yellow) _ _:_

_A plant renowned for its slender, straight leaves. The blooms are quite lovely to look at but care must be taken with the roots as they can be considered poisonous for many a species. It finds its home in wetlands, such as bogs and marshes._

_Though this flower is attributed a rich variety of meanings, in some regions the yellow iris stands for sorrow and the message ‘I share your sadness’._

 

< >  < >

 

 

It comes into the family as such things do: quietly.

Lord Frayus buys it in an attempt to console his grieving daughter after her mother’s unexpected death. A simple toy, for such a high-born child. Stitched from soft black fabric its distinguishing features are little but the red eyes and flowery scent.

Had that been the only remarkable thing about the doll, he may not have made the effort. The truth is his lordship is at that point where a parent will try any remedy, no matter how farfetched.

His Thalia… she has always been… special.

Since his wife has passed away that has become increasingly hard to hide. Alandre had such a way with their daughter. With her gone…

Thalia has the cabinets rattle and books fly from their shelves. Doors open and close on their own. Oh, she doesn’t do it on purpose, sweet little Thali, but nevertheless the staff is scared out of their wits. Soon enough someone will blab and he can’t abide that.

No matter how honourable a profession it may be, to lose his only child to the Jedi Order is a bitter pill to swallow for the head of any House.

He may not have to. Frayus gifts her the doll and while his daughter does not brighten overmuch the disturbances ebb, just as he was promised.

 

< >  < >

 

_Thalia of House Frayus, heiress in the thirtieth generation after its founding, is shrouded in mystery to this day. Though she led her House well, she is said to have been a person of great melancholy. In an unusual move for her time she never chose to marry and preferred the company of only a few handmaidens._

_She is most well-known for the remodelling of her family’s palace from its initial layout, which earned their lineage the colloquial title ‘the House of Flowers’ as well as her expansive collection of antique dolls. Sadly, these heirlooms were entombed with her._

 

< >  < >

 

It’s little things. A prickle on the back of your neck. The feeling of eyes, staring. The light doesn’t fall right, some of the maids claim. They can shine the windows all they want, the sitting room remains gloomy.

How is anyone’s guess with its pastel yellow tapestries. They are a marvel to behold, finely patterned with blooming vines, a winsome theme that holds for all of the late mistress favoured places. If it wasn’t for the dolls it would be a gem.

But dear stars, the dolls. A solid hundred, arranged as artfully as can be managed and still the number of people who will willingly spend time in the mistress old receiving room is dwindling by the day.

_The maids say they move. When no one’s watching._

For weeks it goes like this, the help shuffling the shifts this way and that just to get out of that particular one, until the new Lady Frayus has had quite enough of the nonsense.

If her aunt loved them so much, then she can have the damned things.

_The dolls go into the family crypt, underneath the main house. And they stay there._

< >  < >

 

_Alderaan’s noble families can trace their roots back for years untold. As such many a wild tale has sprung into existence surrounding them. They range from the fanciful stories of their origin to whispered rumors of misdeeds that grow more fantastic with every retelling._

_Even in this context, the House of Frayus is somewhat unusual. The embellished skeletons in their closet, so to speak, are supposedly quite literal._

_Among the servants of the House a peculiar ghost story has held its own for generations. It goes like this:_

_Don’t go into the cellars when it’s dark out. If you have to, avoid the north-eastern staircase. On moonless nights, if you are quiet enough, you can hear a child crying from the very bottom._

_Whatever you do, don’t follow it down._

< >  < >

 

Its new friend is a quiet one. She doesn't burn.

_That’s alright._

She shares her pain instead, her loneliness and her tears. Patchouli drinks them up and they are sad together, but no longer alone.

_That’s just as it should be._

Only, eventually, its friend leaves.

_Why did she do that?_

For a while, everything is still alright. Patchouli has a piece of Thalia left, even if it isn’t as vibrant anymore as it used to be.

_It becomes less vibrant every day. Like all the other pieces it has kept. They lose their shine, grow threadbare. They cease to be enough._

_Slowly but surely, Patchouli grows **hungry**. _

< >  < >

 

By the time the Jedi arrive to inspect the reports of a possible disturbance in the Force, they are almost too late. Truly, their timing is fortunate.

 

_Considering what they end up taking home with them that might be up for debate._

 

< >  < >


End file.
